The Nobleman's Son
by Marla Fair
Summary: The action in this story takes place the a week or so after the episode "The Power of Albion".
1. Chapter 1

**Note: The action in this story takes place the a week or so after the episode "The Power of Albion" In writing this I used the timeline on the Spirit of Sherwood site that suggested Robin of Loxley was Robin Hood for some six years. In this way, I made Robert of Huntington five years younger than him. And as Richard Carpenter put it in one of his interviews: "I (am) not writing a history lesson. Dates are unimportant in a fantasy. Robin Hood is a fantasy." (Thank you for backing me up on that one, Richard.)

As always with fan-fiction these characters do not belong to me, I just borrow them to have a great time and to help the legend and the dream live on.)**

The Nobleman's Son

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"Are you sure, Marion? That this is all right with you?"

Marion tilted her head and frowned. "I've told you ten times, Robert...Robin. I'm fine." She fastened the ornate golden brooch at her neck so it held the fine fur-lined cape in place on her shoulders and then adjusted it. "Really."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It is just—."

"You need me. I understand." Her frown deepened as she watched his blue eyes take in her slim figure wrapped and bound in fine sapphire silk. "And it _is_ only pretense. For one or two nights."

His shoulder-length white-blond hair brushed his cheeks like dove's wings as he nodded his head. "Yes. Like children. We are only pretending."

Marion took a step back and returned his appraisal of her. Robert looked every bit the heir to the Huntington title and estates. He was dressed in blue as well, deep as the midnight sky, punctuated not with stars but with silver embroidery and capped by two metal circlets which rested on his shoulders and bore the weight of a floor-length argent cape. The moonlight struck his profile as he turned his head to gaze at the brace of trees where Little John and the others were resting and cast his blond hair into shadow, and as it did, she shuddered. It made no sense. They were complete opposites—orphan and earl's son, one man of pure instinct and the other well-bred, dark and light— still he had reminded her of Robin. Something in the turn of his head, the look in his eye.

It must have been the mark of Herne's son. Drawing a deep breath she turned away from the sight. They really knew very little of him. Herne had chosen him and after much debate and some brawling, they had reassembled to follow. But who was he really? At this moment he seemed every inch the Earl's son; a fancy creature, a pretty boy born to wealth and privilege. What was it had compelled him to hearken to Herne's call, to join them? Why take up the cause of the poor and the afflicted, the peasant and serf when these were the very people he had been reared to ignore and abuse? She remembered he had told John that Herne had called him over a year before—just after Robin had been killed— and he had run scared.

Why was it different now?

She smiled and curtseyed as Nasir and Little John approached, remembering how she had behaved before choosing to live with a pack of male Wolfsheads in Sherwood Forest. "Will I do?"

Nasir murmured something in his native tongue and inclined his head as John replied, "Marion. You look lovely."

Robert's eyes returned to her. "Like a star drawn from the heavens to walk upon the earth."

Little John's eyebrows rose towards his unruly bangs as Much snickered behind him. A moment later an ill-humored voice cut through the darkness. "Well, if it ain't the Lord and Lady of Sherwood Forest come to make a call on we poor peasants." Will Scarlet thrust his way through the underbrush and fell to one knee before them. He bowed his head and then looked up. When he spoke, his lips jested, but his eyes were deadly serious. "Any scraps for the scum, milord?"

"Will." Little John touched his friend on the shoulder.

"What is it, John? Can't take a joke. Robert..." Scarlet paused and his voice grew tight. "...Robin can. Can't you, _Robin_?"

"You don't have to call me that. Not here. Not when we are alone." The young man shook his thick blond hair. "I don't demand it."

Will Scarlet's eyes shone in the darkness. "Now that's a twist. An earl's son asking." "Will," Little John moved his hand and struck the other man on the head as their new leader moved away. "What's gotten into you? He's Robin now. He's on our side."

Running a hand through his close-cropped hair, Will struck out with his foot, kicking an unyielding tree root. "I know, John. I _know_." He gazed at the young man who had crossed to one of the two horses they had appropriated and watched as he gave Marion a hand-up, "It's just... Well, seeing him like _that_..." He stared at the finery, at the costly metal furnishings glistening in the starlight, and at Robert's slender form and noble bearing. "I've said it before. He isn't one of _us_. He's one of _them_."

John knew Will's wife had been raped and murdered by _them_ and that the scars ran soul deep. His hand fell on his friend's shoulder again. "It wasn't Robert who did those things, Will. He's not like that."

The young man had taken a seat on his own horse now. Will Scarlet watched him as he leaned forward and patted the animal's neck. "Are you sure?"

"What? Will, you know..."

"What do we know?" He looked at his friend. The big man seemed puzzled. "Herne's chosen him and we've followed because of it. That's all." He nodded in Robert's general direction. "Oh, he talks a good piece, John. But when push comes to shove—."

"After all we've been through with him?" the big man protested. "After the risks he's taken with us? _For_ us?"

"What? What has he done? He went to Owen of Clun's to rescue Marion. To save the lady in distress...just what an earl's son would do."

"What about the executioner? And him being wounded? Albion accepted him and protected him. Marion has." Little John pointed toward the pair. Robin was seated on a black horse just to the right of the copper-haired woman. As the moon broke through the clouds and cast its white light on the two of them, he stopped short: they might have been the king and queen of the land. His voice unexpectedly hushed, he asked, "Why can't you trust him, Will?"

The other man glanced about unwilling or unable to answer. His eyes fell on Nasir but the Saracen wasn't paying any attention to them. His mind as ever was on the woods and the whispers of the trees and sounds that either belonged or didn't—ones that would give him fair warning of approaching danger. He nodded to Much as the boy caught him watching and then turned back to the giant before him as their new _Robin_ urged his mount forward "Breeding will out, John," he said at last, "breeding will out."

"We should be back by nightfall the day after tomorrow or the next morning at the latest. Once I confirm what I have been told is true, we'll decide if it is worth looking into."

"What makes this castle and this man, _this_ earl, any different from the rest?" Will Scarlet stepped up to Robin's horse and grabbed the elegant cloth-covered reins. "There are plenty of peasants and servants being abused right here. Why travel half the night and leave the protection of the forest when there are more than enough battles here?"

Robin's blond head tossed and he pulled hard at the reins, dislodging Will's hand. "Why? Because I said so." And with that he kicked the horse's flanks and began to move out, drawing Marion behind.

Little John exchanged glances with Nasir and then turned to meet Will Scarlet's knowing stare. His friend's frown was so deep he could have drowned in it.

"Need I say more?"  
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"That was rather harsh."

Robin looked at Marion and sighed. "I know. I'll apologize when we return." He paused to draw a breath. "It is just that sometimes Scarlet... Well, he just makes me want to—."

"Strangle him?" Her coppery eyebrows rose and she laughed. "Feed him to the Sheriff? Robin often said—." She stopped and her head went down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad you can remember him. You should remember him. He was your _husband_." The young man indicated his fancy dress and then hers, "For now, I am only a poor substitute."

"Robert, you have proven yourself. Herne himself has chosen you..."

"That means nothing if the people don't trust me."

"They will... They do."

He shook his head. "Will doesn't."

"Will isn't people." At his look she continued, "Will is...well, an accident waiting to happen. A storm raging with no purpose other than to consume itself. Will is—."

"One of you. I am not."

She reined in her horse and looked at him disapprovingly. When she spoke, her tone was cross. "And why not? Are you above all of this?"

His blue eyes glistened. "You see? I didn't mean it that way. What I meant is that there is a bond between you. You belong to each other. I don't." He kicked his mount again and began to move forward. "Not yet."

Marion fell silent for a moment. When she spoke at last her voice was soft. "Then where do you belong, Robert?"

His silhouette was sharp against the argent trees. "No where. Not anymore."

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They rode on some time in silence, only the sound of the pounding of their horses' hooves disturbing the forested night. At length Marion spoke again. "This place we are going..."

"Yes."

"Why did you need me to do this? To pretend that we are married?"

He glanced at her and then looked forward again. "I need you to join with the ladies of the household. There is certain information I am interested in obtaining and I thought that you..."

"Would have access to it as an overnight guest and the wife of the Earl of Huntington's son?" He nodded again. "What information?"

"I need to know she is all right."

"She? Who is she?"

The pale young man who rode beside her was silent for a long moment. "Her name is Elaine. She is...someone I knew well. Someone I hurt badly and left—long ago." He paused and then spurred his horse on, pulling ahead of her. "We need to pick up the pace. We will never make the castle by dawn."

Marion followed in silence. She was not certain which had stunned her more: the fact that he had had a life before Sherwood, or the realization that she had not seriously considered it. Oh, she knew he had left the earldom behind. But that was only money and means. She had never thought he might have loved before. And lost just as she had. As had John and Will.

"Oh, Robert," she whispered, so softly he could not hear her, "you very much belong."

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"So what should we do? Just wait here?"

"That's what he said." Friar Tuck lumbered past Little John and shoved him aside as he reached into the pot of stew that had been brewing for hours and scooped out some of the rich mix with his wooden bowl. "They've gone beyond Sherwood. Nearly out of the shire. It isn't safe..."

"Yeah," Will added, grabbing a bowl, "we have our orders, John. Don't forget it."

Little John frowned. "We've always followed orders. Robin—."

" _Robin_?" the brown eyes fixed him. "Which one?"

"You know who I mean." John was growing angry. "Loxley was strong-willed. He didn't listen to no one. This one's not so different."

"I don't know." Will shook his head. "Somehow it just seemed we had more say—."

The big man struck him behind the ear. "That's all in your head. Let it go."

"I say we should follow them."

John frowned at Will and then looked away, seeking the boy's eyes. "And why is that, Much?"

The young man shook his head. Little John could tell the wheels were turning in his head, and as usual, they led his thoughts nowhere but in circles. "I don't know. I just... Well, I just do."

"I agree."

Scratching his beard, the man who had been John Little frowned at the fat friar who was reaching for his second bowl of stew. "Tuck? Why do you say that?"

The heavy-set man laid his hand on the shoulder of the step-brother of their former leader, Robin of Loxley. Much gazed at him. "I don't know why, John. I just have this feeling..." He moved away then and lowered his bulky form to the ground and began to run a dry hunk of day-old bread about the rim of the bowl. "We need to look out for him. He's family."

"Family?" Will Scarlet flung himself to the earth beside him. " _Family_?"

"Aye. Robert of Huntington needs us."

"Us?" the angry man scoffed. "Whatever for?"

"He very much needs a family. He has lost his." Tuck swallowed and washed the

stew down with a bit of ale. "Everything he was, he has given up for us and for those he has been called to aid. It can't have been easy."

"Nothing is easy." Will gnawed on a hard crust of bread and then winked at the fat friar. "Except, maybe, dying."

"Dying isn't easy," Tuck countered quickly.

Scarlet's smile was a snarl. "It's easier than livin', ain't it?"

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Robert reined in his horse and sat staring at the castle before them. It rested like a slumbering beast on a slightly elevated plain in the middle of a vast clearing. A mirrored lake shimmered behind it and a thick moat ringed its high-reaching towers like a torque on the throat of a Celt. He and Marion had left the safety of Sherwood behind sometime before and were now close to the adjoining shire to the east. It seemed odd to be riding in the broad daylight, without a hood, in full view of every man and woman they passed, and yet it seemed unlikely word of his unmasking had come this far. It was hardly known in Nottingham yet, the sheriff and his militant follower having decided for reasons of their own to remain silent. Perhaps in deference to his father. According to the man who had come to him, a former servant of his father's sent by another who worked at Brentwood, no one here had knowledge of his new identity. He would be welcomed simply because he was Robert, the Earl's son, the boyhood friend of Michael, the heir to all that lay before them. He inhaled sharply the crisp wintry air. It had been nearly five years since he had seen Michael or talked with his sister, Alyce. Five years since he had passed several months here as their guest.

Five years since he had betrayed Elaine.

He glanced at Marion. She had her hood back and her coppery hair shone in the waxing morning light. He blew the air out and watched it turn to a white cloud as he pictured her before, riding into danger at the side of the dark man who had first been called to the hood. What had her thoughts been then? Had she deemed it an adventure? Laughed and welcomed it? Had that all turned sour now that the dream had ended with a broken body riddled by arrows and savaged beyond recognition? Could she ever be _truly_ free again?

Free to risk loving another?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She looked at him. Her white hands were crossed over the saddle-horn. "No."

"No?"

She ran a hand through her cascading locks and gazed at the grand structure before them. "What is this about Robert? Really?"

"I told you. The man who will inherit this estate is someone I grew up with."

"Yes."

"Word came, through one of their servants, that the old man is ill and his son may well be working things to become master before his time."

Marion waited. "And..."

He shook his head. "You would not want Michael to be your master. His hand is heavy. He believes everything we were ever taught: that we are better than those about us, that God has ordained us to rule. That the peasants are here for our pleasure and have no purpose other than to serve," he paused, knowing she would take his meaning, "in whatever capacity."

She looked into his face and knew there was something more. "Robert." She watched as he turned towards her. "You have just described practically every landowner and baron in England. What makes this one any different? For once, I am forced to agree with Will. Why _have_ we left Sherwood to come here?" She hesitated and then added, "Does it have to do with this girl? Is that why you told the others to remain behind? Is this _personal_?"

"Michael is very wealthy. He takes everything from those about him and gives nothing." He stopped to swallow. "Even from the local abbey. We can help—."

"Robert..."

His head went down. When he looked up she thought she saw tears in his eyes, but then it might have been a reflection of the early morning light. "When I was very young—."

"You _are_ very young."

That brought a smile to his lips. His eyes flicked to her face. "Thank you, oh wise _old_ woman..."

She struck his shoulder with her fingertips. "You _are_ , Robert. Younger than most of us."

He straightened in the saddle and gazed ahead. "While you were running through Sherwood Forest, seeking to escape the Sheriff's men, fighting to feed the people and save them from the king's foresters and the landed gentry, I was trying very hard to become one of them. Will _is_ right in one way. I was _born_ one of them. You have to understand, Marion, I was brought up to believe all the same things. That this," he opened his arms wide to encompass the land and the cattle at pasture, the servants tending the fields and the flocks of innumerable sheep, "was my destiny." He looked at her at last, his aspect sober. "While you were trying to help these people, I was learning to use and abuse them. Now that I am Robin Hood..."

She drew a deep breath and suddenly understood. "You have to make amends?"

He nodded. "Yes. I have to right what I did so long ago that was so very wrong."

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"Robert, the future earl of Huntington and the lady Marion, his wife."

Marion stiffened her back and laid her hand on top of Robert's. He smiled briefly at her and she nodded. Together they advanced into the great hall. All about them servants shifted in the shadows, preparing for the events of the coming day. As they walked the length of the dining table Marion noted one in particular who stared at her 'husband' hard. She met the man's eyes briefly, but he turned away after depositing kindling by the hearth and vanished into the false darkness.

"Robert?"

"Later," he whispered and inclined his head. " _That_ is Michael."

Marion turned back and found a dark sharp face. The man who rose to greet them was perhaps twenty-five at most. A little bit older than Robert. He was moderately tall and well-built and dressed in a rich red robe embellished with gold brocade and lined with sable. His features were Roman, his black-brown eyes keen as a hawk's; the edges of his full lips already showing signs of a life lived chiefly for pleasure at the expense of others. He rose and took a step towards them, a seemingly genuine smile breaking over his face.

"Robert!" He walked to them and clasped his old friend by the arm, "How long has it been?"

"Near five years, Michael."

"And how is your father?"

Robert glanced at Marion, "Well. And yours?"

The man tossed his dark head. His lips curled as he answered the earl's heir, his eyes on his 'wife'. "I am certain you have heard. Is that not why you are here? Didn't your father send you with his regards for a dying old man?"

Robert took his lead. "Yes. But I came to see you as well."

The smile broadened. "Ready to relive old times, eh?" He turned to Marion and lifting her hand, kissed it. "You have caught yourself a ravishing beauty. There will be no need for some of the _old_ games, I see..."

Marion glanced at Robert and saw a pained look pass over his face. "No. I am not here to play games."

Michael's dark eyes narrowed and flicked to his old friend. "Elaine is here."

Robert stiffened. His fingers tightened on Marion's hand. "I thought—."

The other man straightened. "You thought wrong. You always were a little on the _soft_ side, Robert. What does it matter to you what the fate of one young peasant girl came to be? There are thousands more like her. Take a walk through the local village and you'll see." At Marion's look he added quietly, "But then I forgot, there is no need of that _now._ You have your own pleasure bound at your side."

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They had been shown to their room. It was richly appointed and the bed was feather-soft. Robert stood gazing out the narrow window toward Nottingham and the forest beyond. He was very quiet. They had been given time to change their travel-stained clothes and rest before the midday meal, then there was to be a day of hunting and gaming. Marion intended to plead illness and stay behind. That way she could spend time with the women of the castle and perhaps learn what her 'husband' wanted to know.

She looked at him standing motionless before the narrow slit in the castle wall, as the breeze caught his pale blond hair and tossed it about his face, and knew there was something deep within his soul that stained it. Something he regretted that would not let him go. She sighed and walked to stand behind him and after a moment, laid her hand on his shoulder.

He started and blinked. They had traveled all through the night and both were weary beyond reckoning. She was glad she did not have a day of pretense to look forward to as he did.

"Robert?"

He stirred slowly and then looked at her. "Yes."

"Will you tell me?"

He shook his blond head. "I can't."

"You were a child..."

"Was I? Some men are masters at fifteen or so. Some are kings."

"And others are children. Your life was sheltered. You did not have to grow up so soon."

He turned from her and left the window to sit on the edge of the bed. "I still don't understand..."

"What?" She came to stand by him and stared at him. He was wearing a simple burgundy tunic belted at the waist. Gold braid sparkled at his wrists and throat setting off his pale skin and hair. "What don't you understand?"

"Why Herne would chose me. When he knew...he _had_ to know what I had done."

"Why? What had you done?"

He avoided her eyes as she knelt before him and sighed. "I never told you," he said, gazing at his soft supple hands.

"Told me what?"

The blue eyes lifted and met hers. "That I had met Robin."

She blinked and rocked back on her heels. "What?"

He nodded. "Once, when I was young and on my way through the woods on the outskirts of Sherwood. During my stay here."

"You...met...Robin?"

He looked away, his mind going back to that night. "Yes. I didn't realize it was him until Little John and Tuck were talking the other day. It seems I reminded them of a story he had told them. About an earl's son." He smiled softly. "He wasn't with the others. He was alone."

"And?"

"I'm fortunate I didn't end with an sword-blade through me. Perhaps that was Herne's influence even then."

She shook her head. "Robin didn't harm children."

His eyes found her again. "I told you. I wasn't a _child_. What I did...what we were doing was the doings of men."

"And that was?"

He sighed and shifted on the bed. "You know there was once an abbey on the eastern border of Sherwood?"

"Yes."

"Elaine, the girl I came here to find out about, was on her way there." He closed his eyes. "Apparently she never made it."

Her hand sought his. "Why is that?"

"I had thought..." He didn't pull away but swayed a bit with fatigue. "After Robin stopped us, I had thought she escaped. Now Michael says she is here. I don't understand..." He passed his hand over his face. "Why?"

"Robert, you're exhausted. We both are. It will wait until later."

"No..."

"It has been five years. A few more hours cannot matter." She gripped his fingers and pulled him to his feet and led him about the bed. Pressing his shoulders to the soft covering, she forced him to lie down and then sat beside him, stroking his hair as she had done little more than a week before when he had been poisoned and dying from the arrow the executioner's man had lodged in his thigh. "You are a good man, Robert. Whatever it was, it can be forgiven. And made right."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For understanding. The others. If Will knew..."

"We've all done things we regret."

"Not like this. Not like..."

As he fell asleep she moved to the other side of the bed and laid down beside him and placed her hand on his back. Already she knew she was beginning to love him and it frightened her. How could she take such a chance again?

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There had been a gibbous moon that night, bright but with a patch of darkness, much like his soul. He and his friend were dressed as outlaws, carrying long-bows and bright swords. Michael had brought half a dozen of his servants sworn to secrecy with them. It had been his idea. Elaine had worked in his father's house. She was a beautiful girl. The daughter of a cobbler who had died over the winter and left her to his father's care. When she had asked the old man if she could go to the abbey, he had given her his blessing and sent her on her way. He had been heart-broken. During his stay at the castle, they had become close friends—and he thought more. Her hair was like sunlight bound and her skin white as cream. Roses danced in her cheeks and sapphires in her eyes. He thought he had loved her, and when Michael had come to him with a scheme to stop her, he had willingly agreed. They had laughed and brawled pretending to be highwaymen, swinging their swords wide. But when the night had come and they waited in the trees above the path, something sinister had overcome the other boy. He had drawn a mask over his face, instructing Robert to do the same and pulled an arrow taut, and when the party had passed by beneath them, he had killed the priest who led it and laughed.

 _Robert had hesitated in the trees watching the carnage, listening to the women's screams. He had seen Elaine raise her hands towards him as she was dragged from her horse. Outraged he had risen to go to her when a hand had fallen over his mouth and he had frozen. A young dark-haired man with eyes keen as a falcon's held him tight, his long shining sword to his throat. It gleamed in the moonlight like a thing alive. A soft voice whispered close to his ear and told him to remain where he was. Then the lithe creature swung to the ground and drove the blade through the man closest to him—one of Michael's servants—and pivoting, turned on his friend. Suddenly certain he would kill him, he left the safety of the tree branches and dropped to the grassy floor. Already well-trained in combat he had drawn his weapon and faced the highwayman. By this time Elaine had found her feet and one of the priests had placed an arm about her and was helping her onto a horse. Michael stared across the bloody corpse at the one who had spoiled his fun and then tossing his sword at him, he turned and fled, taking his men with him._

 _Leaving Robert alone to face the hooded man._

 _As he shifted the sword in his hands the moonlight struck the outlaw's face and he realized they were not so far apart in years. Still, other gulfs lay between them that were insurmountable. He tried to sneer, to hold his head high as befit the son of an earl faced with an uppity serf, but he couldn't. He felt dirty and ashamed. His thoughts wandered and his hand wavered and in less than five seconds the sword was at his throat again._

 _"Who are you?" a quiet voice demanded._

 _"Robert," he answered. "Robert of Huntington."_

 _There was a pause and then the hand spun him hard, pulling off his mask. He fell to the ground exposed and terrified._

 _"Why, you are just a boy."_

 _"Not so much younger than you," he drew a breath and forced the word, "scum."_

 _The man moved like lightning to catch his collar and pulled him close. "Listen, boy, I will tell you who the scum are. Men who would kill a priest. Men or boys who would attack a helpless woman in the middle of the night and who chose to interfere with the call of a god!" The outlaw raised his sword again and it glistened like starlight. "I should kill you here. Now."_

 _"My father..."_

 _"Will what? Reward me for saving you? Destroy me for killing you? Well, let me tell you my fine young pup, that means nothing here. Here you are no better than the next man. Here your life has less meaning than a serf's. Do you understand that?"_

 _He nodded quickly, swallowing hard._

 _"What were you up to?" His grip tightened. "Tell me..."_

 _"The girl. I didn't want her to go to the abbey. I love—."_

 _"And this is how you show your love? Well, Robert of Huntington, I think all the money your father has spent on your education has been wasted. You are a fool." He spat the word and tossed him to the ground. "But you are a young fool. You may yet learn." The tall man sheathed his sword and stared in the direction the others had gone. "I mean to see she gets there. If he interferes, I will stop him."_

 _Robert nodded. In his heart he had hoped someone would._

 _"Go home, boy. Think about what has happened here and what you were about to do. Realize the gift the gods have given you—power, wealth, learning—and use them to help. To aid the oppressed. Be a better man than the one who came before you. And if you don't know how, just open your eyes." He pointed at the dead priest and one of the men who had escorted Elaine from the castle. "These are your betters, as are the servants in your father's own house, learn from them."_

 _And with that he was gone._

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Robert struggled deep in the throes of a nightmare. He was back on the forested floor. The sword-blade was at his throat. The dark man stared at him and snarled. Marion lay wounded and bleeding at his feet and Michael stood above her laughing.

"You led her to this. She was yours to look after as my successor," Robin of Loxley intoned, "you deserve to die."

The blade came down and he sat up gasping and bathed in sweat.

Marion stirred beside him. Someone had knocked at the door.

It was time for the day to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

The Nobleman's Son II

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"You're sure you will be all right?"

With a jocund laugh, Michael called from the doorway. "Come on, Robert. The little lady can look out for herself. How long have you two been married anyway?" He was heading down the steps, pulling on his falconer's gloves. "Give her a squeeze and a kiss and let's get going. The dogs are restless." He paused, his eyes on Marion. "And so am I."

"I'm fine." The redhead laid the back of her hand on her forehead and winced as if with pain. "I have one of my headaches, that's all."

Robert brushed the hair back from her cheeks with his fingers. He turned to Michael. "They are worsened by the sun. She needs to stay inside where it is dark."

The other man's black brows rose. "A pity. Such beauty should be allowed to shine. Still, my women will look after her. I will send one with some ointments." He continued to stare at the two of them. "Kiss her quick and let's go."

Robert's blue eyes found her hazel ones and she nodded imperceptibly. He placed his hand on her waist and drew her to him, gently kissing her on the lips. When he pulled back, he whispered, "I'll miss you. Take care."

She nodded, for a moment at a loss for words.

And then he was gone.

Marion returned to the window and waited until she saw them mount their fine horses and ride off, until their party was nothing more than half a dozen dark specks on the horizon that finally vanished into the woods. As they did she placed her hand on her heart. A dark shadow had settled on it for which there was no explanation. They were merely going to hunt. There was nothing to fear here. Nothing at all.

She changed into her afternoon dress and prepared to leave the room. She had noticed a back stair on their brief tour of the castle which most likely led to the servants rooms and she meant to explore it, but as she straightened her gown and headed for the door, she stopped. A young woman, slender and blond, had opened it and stepped into the room. In her hands she bore a wooden tray laden with unguents and other small medicinal jars.

"May I help you?"

"I was told to bring these up—to ease your headache. A gift from the master of the house," the young woman remarked as she set the tray on a table near the bed and turned to face her, "for a very beautiful lady."

The girl was very blonde. Her eyes blue-green. She thought of what Robert had told her about Elaine. It might be her. She would never know if she didn't ask. "Thank you... Elaine, is it?"

The woman laughed. "Heavens, no. What would have given you that idea? Did Robert mention Elaine?"

"Yes. I'm sorry." She appeared confused. "I thought from his description—."

"That I was a serving girl?" The blonde laughed again and positioned herself on the edge of the bed. "I am Alyce of Brentwood, mistress of the house. Michael is my brother."

Marion could see it now. Her bearing was regal. And there was something about

her... Something not quite as sinister as her brother but still, dark and foreboding. "Forgive me," she said, "Robert had spoken of his childhood friend, and your brother said she was still here..."

"Yes." Alyce studied her a moment. "And you are Marion of Huntington?"

It was the first time someone had called her that. "Yes," she nodded. "Now I am."

"Where did your people come from?" At her look the young woman added,

"Robert and I are...old friends as well. I am interested in his _bride_."

She was more than interested. It was obvious she was jealous. Marion turned away from her to look out the window. "Of Leaford. It's outside of—."

"I know the name." The woman's rich hazel eyes sparkled. "And how did you come to meet Robert?"

The red-head hesitated. She smiled as she thought of the boy who had risked his life to defend her honor when he hadn't even known her, challenging Owen of Clun in his father's home. Her eyes lit as she answered, "It was unexpected. We met at Huntington." She thought of the risks he had taken to rescue her and how he had saved her from a life of drugged servitude. "After that? Well, he simply swept me off my feet."

Alyce's aspect darkened as she rose to stand beside her and gazed out the window in the direction the men had gone. "That's Robert." She turned away quickly. "And how long have you been married?"

Marion cleared her throat. What was this? Why so many questions? "Not long."

"You've been married before?"

She frowned. "Why would you ask that?"

The girl laughed. "Just a feeling." Alyce moved past her towards the open door. "Well, Marion of Leaford and now of Huntington, feel free to explore. Our home is yours. The men will return at sundown and there will be a feast with music and dancing, as well as jugglers and magicians. I do so hope your headache is gone by then."

The other woman nodded and waited until she had disappeared. Then she placed a hand on the cold hard stone to steady herself. At this moment she hoped very much that the others—Will, Nasir, Much and Little John— had remained true to themselves. She hoped they had disregarded everything Robin had said and had followed them and were nearby, for she very much felt that they were in danger and when and _if_ they did arrive, it would be none too soon.

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"What is wrong with you, Robert? You seem to have lost the pleasure of the hunt. Robert?"

His blond head came up. He grinned but not for the reason Michael thought. He had forgotten his own name for a moment. Robert. Not Robin. "I am concerned about Marion," he alibied. In truth, hunting for sport held no interest for him anymore when he knew the game they killed and left to rot could have fed mouths in the village of Wickham for months to come. "Sometimes the headaches are very bad."

"Oh. I thought perhaps you were thinking of the last time we hunted together," Michael's voice dropped. "Better game than this."

Their attendants stood some ways off, their brown horses stamping the ground, the air turned white by their breath. He thought he had sensed something in the other man that left him uncomfortable. He knew Marion felt it as well.

He hoped she was safe alone at the castle.

"You said Elaine was here."

The dark-haired man nodded. "Oh yes."

"I thought Ro..." He checked himself. "I thought the man who stopped us saw her to the abbey."

"Robin Hood, you were going to say?"

Robert shifted in the saddle. "Yes, I believe it was him."

"Wolfshead, they call him. Yes, it _could_ have been him. An outlaw but a decent man. He saw her to the abbey gates. I watched her pass in."

"So she did go there? But you said—."

Michael laughed. The sound was not pleasant. "Oh, yes. She was there for some time. I visited her. She wasn't happy and finally she left." He paused. "But then you wouldn't know. You never came back."

"My father did not wish it."

"The earl didn't want his son consorting with the likes of me? Did you tell him what—."

"Not me." Robert shook his head. "One of my servants who knew one of yours. The one who died of his wounds later on. They were cousins."

"I see. Well, she got _away_...that day." Michael steadied his mount and searched the sky for his falcon. "What do you think she is doing?" he asked.

Robert frowned as he followed his eyes. "The falcon or Elaine?"

"Are you still jealous?" Michael's smile was like acid on stone. "And you with a wife..."

"I am not jealous. Now or then. There was nothing to be jealous of, you know that."

The other man snarled and lifted his hand. "I hear the bells. She's coming back."

"Are you?" Robert knew he should have bit his tongue but the other man's arrogance was galling.

"What?"

"Jealous. You always were. Of me, of my father and our possessions. Of Elaine..."

The dark eyes narrowed as Michael put his spurs to the horse's flanks. "I will answer that tonight at supper. Now, I think, it is time to get back to the hunt."

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Not far away, through the woods and behind a thick stand of tall grass, four scruffy figures knelt. The tallest of them held a quarter-staff at the ready. The dark Saracen, clutching twins blades, sat beside him with his eyes closed, his back to the underbrush. Much was watching the trained birds as they wheeled high in the air, but Will Scarlet's eyes were glued to the two elegantly attired figures who rode the fine horse's backs as if they were kings.

"Look at that. What'd I tell you. If he isn't one of them..."

"Was, Will. _Was_." John Little sighed. "He's one of us now."

"Well, he'll have to prove it to me. You don't just forget twenty years of breeding because a horned god asks you to play at being an outlaw."

"Will, let it go." The big man gripped the staff with his fingers. "Or at least shut up about it."

"Fine. Fine. But you mark me. There are things about him we don't know."

Nasir's eyes opened and he fixed the angry man. "That is true of all of us."

Little John smiled. Nasir seldom made a comment, but when he did, it counted.

Will Scarlet growled and fell silent as he watched the noblemen disappear into the darkening night.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Supper was a riot of color and noise intended to last until the wee hours of the morning. There was gaming and entertainment with strolling musicians and well-trained acrobats. The table was laden with every dish imaginable and the costumes of those in attendance glittered like stars in the firmament. It was an ostentatious show. Marion smiled weakly at Robert where he sat to her left. After a day of scouring the castle with no sign of the elusive girl, her headache was for real. She had, however, brought him a note which had been left beneath their door. She had found it on her return. Apparently the man who had contacted him through a third agent wanted to meet with him. She had hesitated to show it to him, thinking perhaps she would keep the meeting herself, but then, she had decided he would never forgive her that. She couldn't treat him like a fragile child she wanted to protect, much as she would have liked to. He was a man. A man with a destiny and it was his to fulfill.

She just had the misfortune to keep falling in love with men of destiny.

As she sighed, he touched her hand and smiled. She nodded. The meeting was set for the hour after midnight, when most in the castle would be too drunk or tired to notice their comings and goings. She had said she was going with him. He had not forbidden it, but neither had he agreed.

There was time yet to argue.

She lay her other hand on his and squeezed it. He was nervous and jittery, as though he too sensed something was out of order here. She knew he awaited word on this girl. He needed to know that she was all right and that the events he had helped to set in motion that night had not scarred her forever. She only prayed that was what he would find. What if it had? What if the girl _had_ changed?

Could Robert survive?

Their host was rising from his seat and had raised a glass of wine. The chair to his right had remained conspicuously empty. She assumed he was not married yet. His pale sister Alyce sat to his left. She had been watching the two of them carefully. Marion found her stark hazel gaze unnerved her. Still, she noticed it was only marginally settled on her: Robert was the center of her attention.

"Friends," he began, "old and new. We have with us tonight an extraordinary guest. Someone I have longed to renew acquaintances with. A man of principle. Someone who will not compromise his beliefs. A champion of the poor and the oppressed." He paused and took a drink and his black stare grew hard as diamonds. "A liar and a hypocrite whose own men would turn on him if they knew what he had done."

Marion's body stiffened. Her hand closed tightly on Robert's and she knew his other reached for his sword. They were totally surrounded by Michael's men and by the other guests. There was no hope of escape.

"Robert of Huntington, otherwise know as Robin in the Hood." To the general exclamations and gasps which accompanied his proclamation, he added, "Seize him, and the girl!"

Marion saw Alyce's eyes narrow as several of her brother's guards stepped forward. A moment later a knife was placed at her throat. She glanced at Robert and saw the soldier ask him for his sword. The blond frowned and handed it over. He rose from his chair in anger and cried as several of the men grabbed his arms and held him tight. "Michael, what is this? Have you gone mad?"

His boyhood friend shifted his chair back and began to walk towards him. He stopped near the door and held out his hand. "Mad, am I? I think not." He turned to someone who lingered in the shadows and said softly, "It is all right, my dear. You may enter now, I have him well in hand."

As he watched a slender shadow shifted within the darker ones thrown by the braziers near the great column and a pale thin reed of a girl emerged, her golden hair hanging in braids to her knees, her bright blue eyes wide and unfeeling. They fell on him and he watched her shudder.

Michael kissed her hand and smiled, touching her hair. "I told you I would find him and punish him for you." He looked at Robert. "Did you really think you could escape the consequences of your crime?"

" _My_ crime?"

"I told Elaine what happened that night. How you were in league with these outlaws

even then—with that dark-haired wolf's head. How you intended to keep her from the abbey. After many years and some wooing, she has left that life behind and consented to be my wife. But before she would, she wanted you punished."

"You're a liar!"

"Silence him!"

One of the guards thrust a cloth between his teeth and another bound his hands.

Marion protested and they did the same to her. She stared wild-eyed as the dark man came to stand close by them. He smiled. "I will dispatch a messenger to inform de Rainault that I have his outlaw. But not too quickly. Tomorrow morning will be early enough. Until then," he took his blade and lifted Robert's head with it, "we will have our own fun."

Tomorrow morning. The others wouldn't even know they were missing before they were dead.

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"So do we go in?"

Little John shook his head. There were dozens of people leaving the castle at the moment and the road was flooded with laughing and talking noblemen and women. They were obviously excited and abuzz about something. With a frown he struck Tuck in the stomach. "Get down on the road. See what this is all about."

"Me?"  
"Your a friar, aren't you? No one will suspect you if you walk toward the castle and

ask a few simple questions." He glanced at Will and Much. "Or would you rather one of these two—or me goes?"

The short rotund man stared at the three ragamuffins traveling with him and sighed. "I'd rather not spend the evening locked in a dungeon. I'll go." Hefting his considerable bulk he moved back along the trees that lined the pathway and slipped onto the road several dozen yards back. As John and the others watched, he folded his hands and began to walk slowly and piously towards the great castle of Brentwood.

Spying a young couple who had halted beside the road to adjust the straps on one of their horses, Tuck crossed himself and offered them a blessing. The young man was perhaps twenty, his bride or fiancée a bit younger. "My children."

Turning from the horse the nobleman inclined his head. "Holy friar. Do you travel to Brentwood?"

"Yes, my son." He acknowledged the young woman with a nod. "I had thought to arrive quietly and unnoticed. Now I see that is impossible. What is all of this?"

The girl laughed. "You have arrived on the eve of one of Michael's feasts. There will be nothing quiet about tonight."

The youth frowned and tossed his tousled brown curls. "And _nothing_ goes unnoticed at Brentwood."

Tuck was a shrewd judge of character. He sensed this young man did not entirely approve of his host. "And why is that?"

The couple exchanged glances as the nobleman remounted. "You'll see." He gently spurred his horse and pointed its head towards the road. "Who do you seek? Surely not Michael?"

"No. A young couple like yourselves who is visiting. Have you heard of Robert of Huntington and his lady-wife?"

The girl beside him paled. Her eyes flew to her young man and then to the ranks of nobles passing by them, several of which were watching the curious trio. "Friar..."

"Yes."

She leaned over her horse and indicated he should come to stand beside her. When he did, she took his hand. "My father is a minor landowner. Richard's as well, but we have cause to thank you."

"Me?" Tuck stiffened as the hair on his arms prickled.

"Yes. My serving girl, a childhood friend of both of us, was waylaid and would have been raped and killed had it not been for you and your friends."

"I think you are mistaken, young lady. I—"

Richard moved his horse closer, cutting the pair off from a group of four men who were moving by. In a loud voice he said, "Friar, the one you seek is in the castle. Ask for Eric. He works in the kitchens." Then leaning close he whispered, "Your friends are taken. De Rainault is sent for. There is nothing before you but betrayal and death."

"Robert? And Marion?"

The young man nodded. " _Robin_ and Marion. Michael knows."

Less than a minute later Tuck was puffing up the slope, hastening towards the others. Will caught his arm as he emerged into the grassy hollow and scowled. "You're a regular chatter-box, ain't you. What were you doing, taking holy confession?"

Tuck shook his head. "No, but God had his hand in it." He looked at Much and Nasir, and then his gaze fell on John. "They are taken."

"Taken?" Little John's eyes grew wide. "What...?"

"Taken and betrayed."

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They had struck him on the head and knocked him out. When Robert awoke he was in a dark place and alone. Marion was not with him. Lifting his head he feebly struggled against the cuffs that bound him to the wall, but soon gave up as the room swam before him. He felt as if he had been drugged. Then he noted the brazier in the corner and the curious scent that lingered in the stagnant air and he realized there was sorcery here. A moan escaped him involuntarily and he shifted his body.

"I see you are awake."

It wasn't Michael. The voice was feminine. Familiar.

"Elaine?"

There was a pause. "That is the second time someone has mistaken me for that peasant today. First your 'wife' and now you." A slender figure dressed in rich yellow robes moved into the flickering light cast by the brazier. Her hazel eyes were deep as a mystic pool; her skin painted golden by its glow.

"Alyce."

Dark blonde eyebrows arched. "I see you _do_ remember me."

"I remember. Even five years ago you were playing at this."

"This?"

He shook his head and the room dipped and dived again. "Magic. Spells. Your father didn't approve..."

"It has kept the old man alive beyond his time," she said cryptically.

"Does your brother know?"

Alyce paused and seemed to shudder. "No."

Robert blinked and tried to remember to keep his breathing shallow. "Why are you here?"

She came up to him and placed her hand on the exposed skin at his chest. They had removed his heavy robe and he was dressed only in a thin shirt and hose. Still, between the small room, Alyce, and the brazier, he was sweating. "Do you remember?"

He hesitated and then nodded. "Yes. But we were children. Those were children's games."

"Not to me." Her hazel eyes were wide. She wanted him to fall into them. "I loved you."

He scoffed. "You loved what I was. What I would _become_."

"You are not the Earl's son now."

Robert sighed. "Who told you?"

Alyce tilted her head. "No one."

"How did Michael..." He stopped at the look in her eyes. " _You_?"

"I was recently in Nottingham. News of the return of Robin in the hood was everywhere." She ran her fingers through his pale blond hair. "I happen to know Sir Guy. He was...very informative. He and the sheriff have kept quiet for the most part about who you are in deference to your father. But Guy wants me..." She smiled sweetly and raised up on her toes to kiss his lips. "And would give me anything."

He pulled back and shook his head. "Not me. He wants me dead."

She touched his cheek and sighed, "So _many_ do."

"Your brother?"

She laughed and turned back towards the brazier. "Him, _and_ your precious Elaine."

He watched as she tossed another handful of herbs and grasses on the fire and sent a fresh cloud of heady smoke his way. Instantly his head swam and he found he had to fight to remain in control. "What has he told her?"

She pivoted. "The truth."

"Which is?"

"How you talked him into attacking her train when she was on her way to the abbey and then deserted him when the plot failed. How you were in with these _outlaws_ even then and meant to take her and do what you wished with her."

"Those are all lies and you know it. As for Elaine, I _loved_ her."

"A peasant girl? Come now, Robert. And you say what _we_ had was a children's game?" Her tone was petulant.

"Why has he set out to do this now? Because of what I have become?"

She shook her head as she approached him again. "In part. Though we were not certain until today. I have followed this _Robin_ _Hood's_ adventures. I knew Marion of Leaford and of her pardon."

"If not that, why did he bring me here?"

For the first time Alyce seemed uncertain. "I don't know. I'm not even sure he did." She touched his chest again. "Perhaps it was intended."

"And what do _you_ want of me?"

"I can save you."

He laughed. "I doubt even your _considerable_ charms could keep Guy from running me through, Alyce."

She glanced at the brazier. "There are other ways."

"And?"

"Take me with you. Into the forest."

He shook his head to clear it. "What?"

There was the sound of a footfall in the hall behind the heavily barred door. Alyce froze. She placed her fingers on his lips and whispered, "It's Michael. He's coming. Robert," her eyes found his, "he hates you and all you stand for. Not just as Robin, but even before..."

"We were not so different before," he admitted grudgingly.

She shook her head. "How is it you do not know yourself?"

The key was in the lock and he heard it turning. "Alyce?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you tell him about me?"

She shook her head as the door opened. "I had no choice."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Marion was back in their room, only this time the door was barred from the outside. She was practically frantic. No matter what she did visions of a man on a hillside surrounded by standing stones and soldiers, struck with a hundred arrows flooded her mind's eye. Only the man was not dark-haired. His eyes were not green. They were blue and his hair was blond.

Robert.

How could she see him die again?

Standing still, she clenched her fists and moved to the window, her mind racing. There had to be a way to escape. Some way to get out of this room and get to him—wherever he was. The madman who owned this castle was playing with them. She wasn't certain he had even sent to the Sheriff. It seemed to her that his grudge was his own. Frustrated and frightened she looked out of the window and watched as several small figures moved about in the dawning light. One of them seemed impossibly familiar. Then she saw the tall man behind it with the quarter-staff and her whole body sighed.

They were not alone.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Robert tensed as the door to the cell opened and then breathed a sigh of relief when he found it was not Michael but a servant bringing fuel for the brazier. The man had his head down and wore a hooded mantle and for just a moment his spirits lifted, thinking it might be one of his own men, but then the head came up and a weather-beaten face appeared and two brown eyes stabbed him like a knife.

It was Eric. Elaine's brother. He had noticed him in the hall when they had first arrived. He had been the man Marion had wondered about who had stared at them with something more than curiosity in his eyes. If he had bought Michael's lies as his sister apparently had, then his presence here would do him no good at all.

Alyce had frozen as the door opened. Upon realizing it was not her brother, something in her seemed to snap, as if she recognized the tenuous position she had placed herself in. She moved close to Robert as the servant began to unload his pail and whispered, "I will be back. I must attend my father. I dare not leave him alone for long." She brushed his face with her fingers, "If I can distract Michael, I will."

"He's not about to forget me, Alyce."

She glanced at the servant. "Nor am I."

And with that, she was gone.

Robert rested his blond head against the chamber wall and sighed. He wondered and worried where Marion was and berated himself for bringing her and for forbidding the others to come. It was his own foolish pride that had caused him to ride off alone with only the copper-haired woman at his side. His pride and his shame for what he had done. He had hoped to come here, to find that Elaine was happy and well and that what he had done had had no effect on her but had been forgotten, left behind with his misguided youth and their childhood ardor for each other. Instead he had found a mystery which confounded him at every turn. How had she come to be here? Why had she believed Michael's story? What was Alyce's part in all of this and of what was she afraid?

"Milord?"

A rough voice spoke near his shoulder. He opened his eyes and glanced down.

"Eric."

"Yes, milord."

"Don't call me that. I have left that life behind." Robert looked at him. The man was nervous. He kept looking over his shoulder. "What is it? Have you something to tell me?"

The dark head nodded. "Yes...Robert. Or do I call you Robin?"

"Robert will do. I have not admitted to Michael's charge." He pinned the other man with his blue eyes. "Do you think I am Robin in the Hood? You knew me before."

The man almost smiled. "I think, mi...Robert, that it is not such a surprise."

"Then you don't believe Michael's claims?"

The man glanced behind him again, almost as if expecting something to form and emerge from the shadows. "I wouldn't have relayed his message to you if I had."

"His message to me? You mean, Michael _did_ send for me? Alyce thought..."

"He tells her nothing anymore. His ways are secret even from his sister." The brown-haired man stepped closer and lowered his voice. "When she returned from Nottingham with news of what you had become— what had once been a childhood wound scabbed over, became an open sore. He sees you as a traitor to your kind. He hates you as he hates his own reflection, and blames you for not becoming what he has become."

"So he brought me here..."

"To destroy you. He has not sent to the sheriff. He does not mean to. He means to kill you himself."

"And you aided him in this?"

Eric's head fell. "I thought..." When he looked up, his eyes were moist. "My sister, you remember her?"

"How could I forget?"

The other man smiled. "She has not forgotten you, either. That night she went to the abbey..."

"I am sorry for my part in that."

The brown eyes narrowed in anger for just a moment. "Yes. You were in the wrong, but you were young and raised to be an Earl's son, to think us worth nothing..."

"It wasn't that," Robert protested.

"Even so." The servant stopped and listened and then continued in a hurried whisper, "There is no time. Because of the hooded man she made it to the abbey and lived in peace for several years. Michael watched her all the time and then—about a year ago—in disguise, he attacked the abbey, took her and burned it to the ground to hide the crime."

"He _burned_ the abbey? He said she left..."

"And all of its gentle inhabitants," Eric growled, "except my sister. Otherwise, it would have been known who had done the deed."

"Yes." Robert drew a deep breath and shifted against his shackles. "And you thought I could help?"

"You have aided so many others. Even if you had not remembered...I knew you would help." His voice fell even lower, so low Robert could barely make it out. "Elaine is enthralled to this man."

"Enthralled? You mean _bewitched_?"

"Yes. He is deep in the arts. He has sold his soul to Lucifer. That is how he will try to destroy—." Eric fell silent. He drew his hood over his face. "Someone is coming. I must stoke the brazier and then go..."

"Must you? The herbs..."

Eric paused and held his hand out. There was a small pouch in it. He fingered some of the fine dust within it and smiled. "They will not affect you so now. But be warned, Michael's magick is deeper and of a darker nature than his sister's simple woodland spells. You must beware..."

"...of loquacious servants who meddle in their better's matters and risk losing their tongues."

Robert's head turned. A dark shadow filled the doorway, flanked by two men at arms.

Michael.

Marion had waved and shouted as hard as she could, but had been unable to draw the attention of Tuck or Little John. Prowling like a caged tiger about the room, she tried to decide what to do. She had to find Robert. A black hole in her heart told her that if she did not, something dreadful would happen. And she needed the men with her. And _that_ meant she had to get out of this room.

Suddenly inspired she walked to the door and pressed her ear against the crack. Someone shifted. So there was a guard. She listened again trying to determine if it was one or two and whether a woman or a man. After five minute's silent vigil someone else passed by and she heard them exchange a few words. It _was_ a woman. In one way that was good. She would not be overcome by greater strength. But in another it was bad: a woman was not so easily fooled by another woman as was a man.

Moving a few feet away from the door she looked about for a suitable object and found the small table with its tray of tiny unguent jars. Perfect. Taking hold of the edge she tipped the whole thing and as it crashed to the floor with a horrendous clamor, she lay down beside it and began to moan.

Someone called her name, but she didn't answer. She just clutched her head tightly and continued to moan.

Soon, to her delight, she heard the bar lifted and the door shift cautiously inward. "Milady?" a hesitant voice asked.

Marion groaned and murmured softly, "My head. Oh by the blessed virgin, my head."

The woman looked behind her and finding no back-up, edged warily into the room.

Thankful that she was normally pale, Marion attempted to look as pitiful as she could by curling into a ball. "Oh, my head. Where is Robert? Please, get him... Help me."

Her guard moved to her side and knelt and for just a moment Marion had a pang of conscience. But for only a moment. A second later the tray which had held the potions came down on the woman's head knocking her flat and she was up and out the door. She replaced the bar and searching every shadow, bolted down the stair.

Some minutes later, she realized she was lost. She had meant to return to the area of the common room and hide and listen to see if she could find Robert's whereabouts, but she had instead ended up on the opposite side of the castle. Glancing out a window she saw was surprised to see their host leading a group of men who were loading something into a cart. The view blocked whatever it was.

Good, she thought. If he was out and gone her chances would be all the better.

Turning another corner she was startled to see several of the castle guards advancing toward her. She didn't think they were looking for her yet, but she dare not chance them spying and recognizing her. Glancing to her left she saw an open door and without thought, darted through it, pulling it closed behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief and then stiffened as a voice spoke her name.

"Marion of Leaford. What is it you want with me, Lady Wolfshead?"

Marion turned.

It was the woman called Elaine.

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"Now what do you suppose that is all about?" Will Scarlet had been left on guard with Nasir while Tuck and Little John scouted out a way into the castle and Much watched the bridge that led to and from the front gate. "Eh?"

Nasir's dark eyebrows rose towards his thick black curls.

They were standing in the shadows of the blacksmith's shed, watching the back entrance to the main building. A very elegantly attired man had left the stronghold to mount a black charger and now he was supervising the loading of something heavy onto a wagon. Will nodded to Nasir and he agreed. As one they moved forward, remaining hidden, to see if they could get a better look.

"Be careful, you oaf!" the man on the horse cried out as he struck one of the servants about the head. "He is not to be damaged. Not here. Not yet."

Will looked at Nasir. Nasir inclined his head towards the cart, his handsome face solemn.

"What? What is it?" Will's brown eyes followed the Saracen's gaze. A moment later he sucked air between his teeth. It was a young man, dressed in an ornate tunic and hose. There was no mistaking that hair.

Blond. Golden-white as flax.

"You don't think..."

Nasir nodded. "Robert."

Will Scarlet rammed one hand into the other. "And we don't know where Tuck or John are. What do we do now?"

His friend nudged him and nodded. The cart was beginning to move away. The horseman was in the lead and about half a dozen attendants followed close behind.

"Right. We go anyway."

Nasir bowed and held his hand before him, indicating Scarlet should lead.

Will Scarlet gazed at the nobleman who rode close by, at his elegant clothing and fine upright stance. He growled low in his throat and clutched his bow.

"With pleasure."


	3. Chapter 3

The Nobleman's Son III

ooooooooooooooooooo

"Elaine."

"Yes, I am Elaine." The pale young woman sat in the shadows, her face turned towards the fire. Her voice was dull and even, like someone who spoke from a dream. "And you are the wife of Robin Hood."

Marion hesitated, but it _was_ the truth: though that Robin in the Hood was dead. "Yes. Are you going to tell them I am here?"

The young woman remained silent. She didn't move. "Robert's wife."

Marion began to move towards her and as she did she noticed a curious scent in the air. It was coming from the fire. She shook her head to clear it and moved to face the girl. "We live together in Sherwood, with our friends."

The young woman's eyes were blue as the skies and clear as a mountain stream. Clear in color, but like mud in reason. It was obvious she was drugged. "I hate him," she continued without feeling.

Marion knelt before her. "You do? Why?"

"He betrayed me."

Robert had touched on whatever the heart of this matter was. It was why they were here. "Can you tell me?"

The girl spoke as if from rote. "When we were young, he loved me. Michael loved me too. I could not decide, and knew it could not be, and so I chose to go to the abbey. On the way there, they tried to stop me. It was Robert's idea. Michael meant only to keep me from going, but Robert had decided that whether I wanted to or not, I would be his. He enlisted the aid of the bandits of Sherwood Forest and they ambushed my train. They killed the priest who traveled with me and several of my maidens. Then, out of guilt for what they had done, their leader took me to Ashwood and left me there. I never saw Robert again."

"How do you know all of this?"  
The young woman stood and walked towards the fire. Her movements were mechanical. "Michael continued to love me. He visited the abbey often. One day, he bid me come with him." She fell silent a moment. "He told me everything then and begged my forgiveness. I have been with him ever since."

Marion frowned. "You never went back to the abbey?" Did she know it had

burned?

"No. And then he told me he had found him."

"Robert?"

"Yes. Now Robin Hood. Playing at the bandit still, saving peasants and threatened women on their way to nunneries." Her voice took on a hard edge that seemed foreign to it. "I want him dead."

The other girl stepped close to the fire. "Do you? Or does Michael?"

Elaine blinked. The movement of her black lashes on her pale flesh was slow, like a dying butterfly's wings. "I..."

"Elaine, it is _all_ lies. Robert is not like that. He is kind and good and cares for the people. For all people. Don't you understand?" She took hold of her arms and shook her. "It is Michael who is evil. You must help me! He has Robert, he _will_ kill him if I cannot find him in time."

"Good..." her voice faltered.

Marion shook her, "Do you want him to die?"

"No. Neither of us do."

Marion pivoted sharply and found another blonde woman standing in the doorway. A weak older man leaned on her arm. He straightened up when her eyes touched him and stepped under his own power into the room.

"The time has come for this to end," he said, "now."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Tuck and Little John had tricked their way into the castle. The friar had explained to those who bothered to ask that they had come on church business, and even though Little John's stature and clothing had raised a few eyebrows, so far no one had tried to stop them. John carried a large casket they had appropriated along the way and they had used it as a reason for his presence. His great strength was needed, Tuck offered, for the return trip when the box would be laden with the usual donations the master of Brentwood was wont to send to the abbey in his dead wife's home village.

Wherever that was.

"What do you suppose Will and Nas are doing?" Little John whispered as they began to mount the stairs and head for the chapel.

"Sleeping, most like." Tuck puffed as they turned and started the second flight of steps. "My dear Lord, they make it hard work for the salvation of their souls. Whoever heard of a chapel on the third level?"

"Tuck."

"What? What is it?"

Little John had glanced down a hallway and seen three small shadows shift into the light. One of them had blazing red hair. "I think that was Marion."

"Was Robin with her?"

He shook his head. "Should we follow?"

Tuck tilted his tonsure and felt the chins bunch at his neck. "That's what we came for. Put it down and let's go."

Nasir and Will trailed silently behind the party. They seemed to have no intention of stopping. Moving as quickly as the cart allowed, they were headed off the estate and into the forbidding trees beyond.

"Now where do you suppose they are going?"

Nasir gazed ahead and shrugged, then he suggested, "Sherwood?"

Will frowned. Whatever would they do that for?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Robert awoke to damp and darkness. He opened his eyes and realized he was no longer in the castle. All about him the familiar sound of forest life ebbed and flowed like a living sea. He tried to move and realized he couldn't. Something was binding him and holding him fast. He glanced at his chest and then his eyes found his arms and hands and he realized he was staked down. Wooden poles rose all about his form and leather thongs crossed over his flesh and thin clothing, pinning him to the soft wet ground. He was lying in some sort of a marshy area and already the soft land had retreated beneath his solid frame and where it gave way, cold water crept in to fill the void.

Panicking he struggled against the leather bindings and then realized he was not alone as laughter flooded the still night air.

"So you are awake at last."

He pulled hard against his bonds but then stopped as the frigid water began to creep into his clothing. "Where have you brought me?"

"Don't you recognize it?" Michael sat astride his horse, his dark head framed by a moonlit tree behind him. "This is the Ashwood road. The way to the abbey. Where it all began."

"Where what began? What is this?"

"The paths we have both chosen to walk. Those of darkness and light. It was here the decision was made: for both of us."

"What are you talking about?"

Michael dismounted and came to stand by him, his lean straight form silhouetted against the shimmering leaves. "Do you remember that night?"

Robert's teeth chattered. "How could I forget?"

"And the dark man who stopped us?"

"Yes." The thin blond shuddered as the water began to chill his skin. "It was Robin Hood."

"You said that before." Michael laughed again. "It was not."

"Th...then who?", he stammered as he began to shake uncontrollably.

"The spirits of the woods have many names. That one was a trickster. Elven and dark. I have seen them many times since, here in this place. That night, when he spared me, I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I had been chosen."

Robert felt panic rise in him again. The water was soaking through his heavy tunic and hose and beginning to draw him down. "Chosen?"

"By the powers of darkness. I became the son of Belial. At that moment our destinies were fixed. You ran from the power that sought to embrace us." He loomed over him. "I chose to embrace it utterly."

"And this is why you brought me here?" The water was over his shoulders now. "To offer me as a sacrifice?"

His enemy's face grew hard as stone. "If I had it my way...but that is not what my master desires. The balance is all." He knelt in the wet grass and took hold of Robert's chin, forcing him to meet his dark eyes. "I brought you here to give you another chance to accept your true destiny. The one you knew when we were young. You must embrace the darkness in your soul and join with us."

"Or what?" He used what little strength he had to wrest his chin free and then regretted it as he settled deeper into the mud.

"Or die."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"What do you suppose he's doing with him out here?" Will asked Nasir as they moved through the trees and over the frost-covered ground. They had fallen a good hour behind the other party. Fortunately the cart had slowed the others down or it would have been two or three.

Nasir shook his head.

Scarlet grabbed his arm and stopped him. "I'd like to hear your opinion."

The Saracen met his eyes.

"Nothing good."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Robert could see them waiting in the darkness, a silent circle of men bearing torches like the ones that flanked him, their forms masked by the wavering leaves that whispered in the cold night air. They were keeping watch, waiting for him to cry out or to die. Michael had left him on some secret purpose and ridden towards the abbey, explaining that his master would come and take him should he call for him. If not, he would soon sink beneath the soft surface of the marshy land and drown.

He strained against the leather bindings that held him down, noting with irony that in one thing, Michael had been right. It _had_ been in this very place that Herne's second son had been born, challenged and changed by a chance encounter with a dark sprite of the wood: Robin in the Hood.

And yet Michael, seeing the encounter and the man through a very different set of eyes, had chosen a darker bloody path to follow.

Closing his eyes he thought of Herne, of the stern master he served who spoke in riddles and so often seemed remote, and yet who would abandon his godhood to come and tend to a sick and dying man. There was power in that. A power Michael would never understand.

The water was near the level of his chin now and he knew he was going to die. There was no way he could free himself. His thoughts flew to the others and to the grief it would bring them. Loxley had been dead less than two years...and now him. Would they follow if Herne called another?

And could Marion survive?

A voice spoke from the ring of fire. It was not Michael but one of his attendants and he urged him to call on the dark lord of the Forest, on Belial, the wicked and worthless one. He steeled himself to their quiet entreaty, to the chilling voice of the water and the numbing cold that threatened to overcome him. Instead he lifted his voice and cried with all his might, "I call on Herne. I am Herne's son!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Did you hear that?"

Nasir nodded as twin blades slid silently from their housings. Will touched his shoulder and indicated he should move to the south while he circled north, but as they came to the edge of the clearing, he stopped. He saw the circle of men. There were at least six and they ringed the silvery trees as if keeping watch or working a spell to contain some sort of power in its midst.

The Saracen beside him growled and inclined his dark head. The cart they had followed was empty. He rose up on his toes and cursed. Will followed his eyes. In the center of the ring, barely visible in the light of twin torches, was the half-submerged figure of a man.

"Do you think he's dead?" Will breathed, terrified.

Nasir shook his head and lifted his blades. There was only one way to know.

"Right." Scarlet pulled his own sword from its scabbard. "Let's get at it then."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Marion and Alyce propelled Elaine down the corridor. They had left Alyce's father in the girl's room, hoping it would bring him some safety. He was too ill to travel with them. Stealthily they moved through the hallways, heading unerringly for the dungeon, intent on freeing Robert from his chains before Michael could do him harm. Just before they reached the cell, Marion realized they were being followed. She sent the other two on ahead and blended into the shadows, lifting the sword the Earl of Brentwood had lent her. A moment later two figures moved swiftly past and she stepped out and raised the blade and then started to laugh.

The pair before her stopped and turned about. Tuck was puffing heavily but managed to cross himself. A broad smile broke across Little John's bearded face.

"Marion! We're here to rescue you."

She lowered the sword and smiled with relief. "Tuck. John."

The rotund friar rolled towards her and added, "I see we are a little late."

A shriek brought their heads up and sent the three of them running as one towards the darkened cell. Marion's heart leapt into her throat. Alyce had told them this was where she had left Robert and the scream had come from within.

If he was hurt... or worse...

She turned the corner and entered the cell to find Alyce staring at an empty wall and Elaine on the floor, cradling the body of a man with curly brown hair. Tears flowed from her blue eyes and she seemed to have awakened some to her surroundings. Marion knelt beside her but she wouldn't speak. She looked at Alyce.

"Her brother," the pale woman explained.

"And Robert?"  
Alyce shook her head, "He was here. Right here. Michael has taken him somewhere.

"We are too late."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Back in the forest Will and Nasir circled round the trees and the guards trying to

quickly decide what was the best course of action. Finally they agreed that one of them would show himself, hoping to draw some of the men off and the other would fight his way through and try to free Robin. It wouldn't be easy, but time was running out. They could hear their leader coughing as the waters crept between his lips and began to cover his head.

"Now?" Will asked.

Nasir nodded.

Now.

In a frenzied burst of energy Will Scarlet broke through the trees and began to scream in rage, drawing the men's attention. That part was easy as fear for this high-born lord whom he had fought and argued with, and accused of not being one of them, propelled him forward. In the day that had followed he had realized just how much young Robert of Huntington had come to mean to him. Though he wasn't like Loxley, the challenge was the same. Here was someone who called him to be more than he was, more than just a revenge-driven bully. Someone who kept him from becoming what he hated most: one of them, one of the ones who had been capable of killing his wife—a beautiful innocent young woman— without thought. Like Robin, Robert made him think. Made him realize each life counted for something, even if there were times when one had to be taken to spare another. As half of the mystic circle turned towards him and the other half headed for his friend, he struck out with his sword slicing the side of one guard's face and spitting another on the blade.

Now was one of those times.

Nasir moved like a shadow towards the remaining three men who had taken up positions about the nearly submerged form of Robin. He gazed at the forest floor and realized the young man had stopped struggling.

This was not a good sign.

The Saracen watched closely as the men turned nervously, searching the darkness, unnerved by Will's battle-cries. Most likely they were followers; not here because of their own beliefs, but because of those of their master. Most likely, they were more than ready to run. Drawing near, staying hidden in the tall grasses, he waited until they pivoted towards the sound of Will's sword piercing the third man and then he rose up like a dark spirit, his double-blades flashing in the moonlight to take down two at once. The other man looked at him and tossed his weapon and began to run.

Nasir let him go and turned towards the torches.

Robin had disappeared.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They had gathered Much at the bridge and mounting horses Alyce had secured for them, flew into the night. They had all agreed. Michael must have taken Robert to the area near Sherwood, to the place where they had fallen out and their paths had diverged. The young woman who was the center of all of this rode behind Marion, her eyes wide open now. She still had the blood of her brother on her. The two women had talked softly and Marion had assured her she _had_ been drugged and was not responsible for the things she had said or thought. Crushed with regret anyway, she had insisted on coming with them. Alyce had stayed behind with her father, on the off-chance her brother might return. They had not seen him yet on the road and so it did not seem likely, but she understood the other woman's concern.

Moving with the speed of lightning, they covered the ground the cart-bearing party had passed in a tenth of the time, so that—just as Will and Nasir were deciding how and where to make a stand—they entered the forested area near the abbey of Ashwood where once upon a time a young girl had passed and the lives of three friends had become inextricably intertwined.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Will Scarlet pulled his blade from the third guard and wiped it on the grass. Sheathing the sword he moved through the darkness towards the center of the circle of trees. Breaking through the tall grasses he opened his lips to call but stopped dead at the sight that greeted him.

Nasir stood in the wet grass poised between the smoking torches, a sodden limp form in his arms. Robin's head hung back, his mouth was open; his hands dangled motionless at his sides.

They had run out of time.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Nasir bore him forward like a fallen prince, moving outside of the circle from the cold wet ground to where the forest floor was solid and overgrown with grasses and dry gorse. There he lay his leader's body gently down and stepped back. Will had palmed one of the torches and knelt by his side, laying a hand on the young man's chest. It might have been the night and the moonlight, but he didn't think so. Robin's skin was blue. And he wasn't breathing. Scarlet planted the torch in the ground and looked into Nasir's face. There were tears in the Saracen's eyes. He hung his head as he heard the sound of horses moving through the woods. He didn't even care anymore.

Let them come. He thought. Let them come.

A moment later he felt Nasir's hand on his shoulder and his head came up. Marion stood at the edge of the circle, her face a ghostly white. Another woman lingered close behind her and Tuck and John brought up the rear along with Much.

Will stood and looked at her. "Marion, I'm sorry. We were too late..."

For a moment she stood frozen. This couldn't be happening. She looked at the body lying on the forest floor in disbelief. Then she fell to her knees. All about her the world broke into chaos, but one voice spoke quietly beside her. "Don't give up hope," it said, "there may still be a chance."

Then it fell silent and there was nothing but the night.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She awoke sometime later to find herself under a thick blanket of skins, lying next to Robert. For a moment she thought she was in the castle once again, but then she remembered: he was dead. Horrified she sat up with a shriek and began to strike at the thin air.

A pair of strong hands caught hers and held them. A moment later she looked up into Little John's face. He was pale and worn beyond endurance, but he held her eyes and forced her to listen to his words. "Marion, he's not dead. Marion! Look at him."

Tears streaming down her cheeks she forced herself to turn and look and noticed that Robert's color had returned to something close to normal. She stopped then and realized he was sweating. So was she. All about them small fires raged and the two of them were buried in a nest of skins and soft woolen capes.

"What?" She felt all the strength go out of her at once and fell limp against his side. "I thought—."

"So did we all. He wasn't breathing."

"Then how?"

She heard movement and Elaine knelt beside her. "How are you, Marion?"

"You?"

The young woman nodded. "In the years I was at the abbey we had several women brought to us. They had been staked here, in the marsh-lands, as witches. One died." She glanced at Robert and laid her hand on his forehead. "The other we managed to warm soon enough and she survived."

Marion glazed at the pale face beside her. He looked so very young. "Will he be all right?"

"He should be. Though he should rest when he wakes. It would not be wise for him to move right away." Elaine laid her hand over his and added, "The sisters warned of other who dropped in their tracks soon after waking, if they did not remain still. We must keep him prone to make certain he survives"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Some time later Little John returned to the others. He had left Marion sleeping beside—and the other woman sitting— with Robert. The moon had fallen and the earth had taken the first breath before the new day, waiting for the sun to rise. Much was busy drying the clothes Robert had been wearing. Nasir was standing guard. Tuck and Scarlet watched him approach and the friar asked, "How is he?"

"He should be all right. But what are we going to do about the devil that did this to him?"

"We didn't pass him on the way here," Tuck answered. "Where do you suppose he went? Back to the castle?"

"He's gone to the abbey."

Four heads pivoted as one. Robert stood before them like one risen from the dead, a woolen blanket wrapped about his unclothed form, his skin pale and still tinged with blue and a determined look on his boyish face.

"Robin!" Little John stood and crossed to him. "You shouldn't be up."

"We told him that."

John looked beyond the slender man to find Marion watching him, her cheeks wet with tears. "Lass..."

"He wouldn't listen."

"This has to end. Now." Robert turned to the young man who held his tunic in his hands. "Much, I need my clothes."

Will Scarlet walked over to him and stared him in the face. "I could knock you over with a feather, I could." He pushed the other man and watched him sway and almost lose his balance. "Let us handle it."

"No. Michael is my business. And Herne's."

"Herne? Well, it wasn't bloody Herne who saved you, was it? Where was he when you were lying there blue as a nobleman's coat-tails?" He looked at Elaine where she waited near Marion. "If not for her..."

"Will. That's enough."

Scarlet frowned. The tone was a familiar one. He had his orders and like a good little page he was to obey the lord of the castle. "And I was worried about you," he whispered, poking him. "I was right before. You _don't_ belong..."

"No, you were wrong. We were both wrong." Robert swayed again and Elaine caught his arm before Marion could move. He glanced at her and then back to Will as he momentarily leaned into the girl's strength. "I am not saying I don't need you. I do." He glanced from one to the other, ending with the copper-haired woman he had come to love. "I would be dead without all of you. But this is between the powers of light and darkness. Between Herne's son and a _son_ of darkness. I _must_ go."

"Even if it kills you?"

Robert nodded. He felt Marion's eyes on him. "Even so."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The ruins of the burnt abbey were dark and silent, silhouetted against the dawning sky. He stepped into them alone. The sun had just passed the top branches of the whispering trees and its rays painted their leaves a golden-red, signaling the hour of rebirth.

Raising his head he called out boldly, "Michael! I challenge you. If your master is strong and mighty then why do you hide?" He listened to the words echo from the burnt and scattered stones which bore mute witness to the horrors that had played out before them, not so long ago. "Come forward and face me! Michael!"

A shadow shifted near the ruined altar and his old friend stepped out of the cloaking darkness to stand revealed in the blood-red light. Several other silent shadows followed, bearing arms.

"So you live."

Robert nodded. "Yes. No thanks to you."

"And you have not accepted him?"

"No."

"But you survive." Michael pulled at his leather gloves and laid his hand to his sword. "My master will not be pleased."

The blond shifted on his feet. "Nor is mine."

"You are alone?"

"Yes."

The dark-haired man came forward and circled round him. He noted his pallor and the way the other man seemed to be holding himself together. "But you are not well."

"Well enough to best you."

"We shall see." Michael's dark eyes sought his. "Do you understand why I am here?"

"This is where it all began." Robert gazed at the broken altar and the shattered cross planted upside-down by its side. "This is where you chose your path."

"Yes. And it is where it shall end."

"Your path?" Robert put his hand to Albion.

"Or yours." Michael nodded and one of his men stepped forward. He held out his hand and the man placed a sword in it. He held Robert's blue eyes and then commanded, "Leave us. Return to the castle." As the man hesitated, he struck him with the flat edge of the sword and shouted, "Go! All of you! Go!"

A moment later, they were alone.

"Elaine is free of you now," Robert said suddenly.

Michael's dark brows lifted. "And you have filled her head with lies."

"With the truth. Have you lived with the lies so long you don't know one from the other anymore?"

"I know this. There can only be one master. One path that is right." He lifted his blade and nodded, signaling he was ready. "One of us must die."

Robert nodded and freed his sword.

"Let it begin."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The others watched from within the woods as the two men began to circle one another, testing each other's strengths and weaknesses. The early morning light shone off their blades as they flashed and the sound of metal striking metal clove the air. Marion watched horrified. She wanted to, but she couldn't turn away. At her feet the other girl knelt in prayer. Her fingers gripped the cross she wore about her neck and her lips whispered fervent words. Little John held Scarlet back as Tuck and the others stood by helplessly.

"You want him to die, John? Cause that's what he's going to do. He ain't strong enough to fight him on his own."

"God will protect him," Elaine spoke into the silence.

Will scowled at her. "Which god? His or yours?"

She rose to her feet and gazed at the two men. Robert had fallen, but had rolled over and was regaining his feet.

"In the end, there is only one."

They had moved about the desolate church yard, gaining ground and losing it, until they actually fought on the sanctuary floor. The early morning light was streaming through the burnt and broken ceiling above their heads, illuminating the nave and the shattered altar. Robert was breathing hard. His heart was racing. Any energy he had was long gone. His foe on the other hand seemed renewed and refreshed and fought like he could go on for hours. He stepped into the shadows and rounded a broken pillar, catching a moment's respite. How often was it like this? How often did the darkness like an impenetrable tide rise up to shut out the light, crashing down to extinguish it, only to have it ignite again in another place, another time.

Another form.

Michael's shadow fell across the moss-covered stones. Robert stepped back only to catch his foot in a crack and fall. As his head grazed the edge of the broken altar, stunning him momentarily, Albion flew from his hand and out of reach. Michael moved between him and it, a great black shadow which threatened to swallow him. His enemy's sword was in his hand and he raised it high above him, meaning to skewer him.

Robert's hand encountered a metal object shoved into the ground. He grasped it with both hands and pulled it from the dew-soaked earth. His fingers found a purchase on the three-prong handle and he held it before him with the jagged end up and shook as every bone in his body was jarred as the other man's weight fell upon it full force.

Impaling him on the cross.

Michael's eyes opened wide. His hands clasped and unclasped. He opened his mouth and a sound came from it that was not human, and then a dark shape escaped as a breath and rose up momentarily blotting out the sun. Robert stared at the broken body as it fell to the earth, its life extinguished, and then, leaning back against the rose-tinted stones, surrendered to unconsciousness.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Three days later he stood on the same spot, his hands in the hands of the woman named Elaine.

"You are certain?" he asked her. "You mean to stay here?"

She nodded. "It is the least I can do. I mean to rebuild." She stared at the graveyard where they had placed as many of the scattered bones of the former occupants as they could find. "They were kind to me. Kind as was my God for sparing you."

"Elaine..."

She raised her hand to his lips. "No words. I have my God and you have someone waiting for you."

He glanced behind and saw Scarlet and the others. Marion was with them. She sat on a white horse and her glorious hair blazed like molten metal in the sun. He released Elaine's hands. "I don't know. Marion..."

"Loves you."

The blond head shook. "But she's frightened. And I don't blame her. What we do is dangerous. It is not safe to love—."

"It is never safe to love, Robert. If it is, then it is not love."

She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him then.

He touched her face. "Do you forgive me?"

She tilted her head and gazed into his eyes. "There is nothing to forgive. Marion explained..."

"I came with him willingly. I didn't want you _here_." He indicated the abbey. "I meant to stop you no matter what. I couldn't accept the fact that you didn't want what I wanted..."

"But I did." She smiled at his look. "But this," she touched her cross, "was the higher calling. I think you understand now, Robin in the Hood."

"Then you are happy?"

She reached for his hand and turned to the altar which had been restored. They had buried the broken cross on top of Michael's corpse and a new one now stood in its place.

"I am more than happy. I am home."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

On his way back to his men he met Alyce. Upon returning to the castle she had found her father dead. Now with her brother's passing she had become the mistress of Brentwood. In penance, she had forsworn all former allegiances and pledged to restore the abbey. Now she was here to speak with Elaine and to plan.

He smiled as she stopped to look at him. "Robert, you look well."

"And you." He took her hand and kissed it. "And do you no longer wish to live in Sherwood, lady Alyce?"

She glanced behind at Marion. "You already have your May-queen. I must be content to make good the harm done by my brother. Goodbye, Robert. God's blessing on you."

"Herne protect you, my lady."

She nodded. "And you."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

That night as he lay resting, Marion came to his side. She stared at him and her young face was sober. He sat up and began to rise, but she stopped him with a look and sat instead beside him. The men were all asleep except for Tuck who was two dozen yards away keeping watch. She bent her knees and drew them up, resting her chin on her hands. A moment later she sighed.

"Marion?"

"Twice now in as many weeks I have thought you lost. You know that?"

He nodded. First from the poison in the torturer's arrow and now this. "I'm sorry."

She laughed. "As if it was your fault. You have too good of manners, Robert."

Robert. Still Robert and not Robin with her. Not when they were alone. "It's bred into my bones."

"Yes," she agreed. "That and other things."

He shifted and fought a yawn. He was weary beyond words, not yet recovered from the ordeal in the marshes. "Meaning?"

"Goodness. Hatred of injustice. The powers of light."

"I am only a man..."

"No. You are much more. As was Robin." She pushed a tangle of reddish curls back from her forehead. "You can't belong to me anymore than he could. I have to share you with the world, or have none of you. There is nothing in-between."

"Marion—"

She shook her head. "You're shaking."

He realized he was. "I'm all right. I just need to rest."

"Lay down," she commanded, "and I will hold you. Elaine said you need to keep warm."

His blue eyes sought her hazel ones. "Really, Marion, you don't have to—."

"I know I don't. I want to. But that's all I can say for certain for now. Can you accept that?"

He continued to stare at her for a moment and then shifted and laid on his right side. She placed her arms about him, reaching through his to clench him tight to her warm body. He murmured something but it was lost in the sleep that overtook him almost instantly.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"What do you think of that?" Will Scarlet whispered, poking Little John in his side as he watched the two of them lay down beside the tree. "What's _that_ mean?"

The big giant of a man struck him on the head and answered, "I guess it means he really belongs."


End file.
